Justified Kisses
by DefrostingSteve
Summary: After too long of repressing his urges, John can't help himself, and kisses Sherlock. As their kisses happen more often, Sherlock catches on with the act.


John had always been careful.

He'd always repressed his instincts, checked his actions, thought before speaking. He had to, so he didn't accidentally say those words that he was afraid to say.

He supposed that the fact he was scared to say them only made them more prominent in his mind, and therefore more of a danger of accidentally whispering.

And he'd never slipped up.

Until Sherlock got shot, and John thought he was losing Sherlock all over again, and the pain from before rose back up, the tidal wave of emotions nearly swallowing him right there, dragging him down…

And then Sherlock jumped up, pulling his shirt open to reveal the bulletproof vest underneath, and instead of dragging him down, John's emotions pushed him forwards, onto Sherlock's mouth.

It was merely a brush of the lips before John pulled back.

"What was that for?" Sherlock asked.

"Just glad you're alive." John answered with a facade of nonchalance.

"Oh." Sherlock replied, frowning slightly.

And that was how it begun.

Two weeks later, Sherlock walked into the kitchen with his duvet wrapped all around him. The only thing sticking out from the white bedding was Sherlock's head; his hair was completely wild, his face looked even more pale than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot, with bags underneath them.

"John, I'm dying." Sherlock announced as he stood next to John, and looked down at him with such a miserable expression that it took every bone in John's body not to laugh.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm dying, can't you see? No, of course you can't, you see but you-"

"do not observe, I remember from the first time." John finished, pushing Sherlock towards their couch. "Lay there, I'll make you some tea."

"I don't want tea, I want to get better."

"And tea will make you feel better. Now lie down and do as you're told." John ordered, his commanding tone kicking in.

By the time Sherlock had finished fidgeting about on the couch, moaning because "It's not comfortable anymore" and demanding a new one, John was stood next to the couch with a cup of tea in hand.

"Have you finished?" John asked.

"No." Sherlock sulked.

John sighed slightly, repressing the urge to throw the tea on Sherlock's head. Instead, he handed it to Sherlock, pointedly waiting at his side until Sherlock drank some of it.

Sherlock lifted the cup enough to sip at it.

"Is it okay?" John asked. "I put extra sugar in to give your body energy."

"It's fine." Sherlock began. John was about to walk away as he continued, "Perfect, as always. Thank you, John."

John turned around, staring at Sherlock for a second. He leaned down, and placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's head.

"What was that for?" Sherlock asked him.

"Get better."

A month after that, John was at work, and at the time extremely busy with his fingers up… Giving someone a prostate exam.

Sherlock flounced into the room, his coat whirling in the fast action, and making John jump so much that he pushed a little too far into his patient, who grunted. Both John and the patient were staring at Sherlock.

"What's happened?" John asked in a clipped voice.

"My parents are getting divorced." Sherlock said with a smile as he walked towards John.

"Sherlock, you can't just walk in like that. I'm busy with patients who actually need my attention-"

Sherlock cut him off with a kiss, making John forget all the words he had built up to throw at Sherlock.

And then he turned around and walked off.

John stared after him in shock for a moment. "What was that for?"

"To celebrate the good news." Sherlock replied without turning around.

"I thought your parents were getting divorced?" John's face reflected the confusion he felt.

"They are. I was right; Mycroft owes me two hundred pounds." Sherlock threw another smile at John, paired with a twinkle in his eyes, and slammed the door with as much drama as he entered with.

The excuses got worse, and worse, and worse.

One day, John kissed Sherlock just because the post arrived.

On another, Sherlock kissed John because his microscope was still working (when there was nothing to suggest otherwise).

On one Monday that was nothing special in particular, John kissed Sherlock because "The sun is shining."

It was July.

And after so long, the excuses stopped coming. But the kisses never stopped.


End file.
